“I was giving a haircut. What does it look like I was doing?” I tried to make it come out as if she was the one who’d lost her mind.
“Um . . . that was no haircut. That was foreplay. It’s so hot in here that I’m about to have to go relieve myself in the bathroom.”
My brow knitted. “Are you always so gross?”
“Are you always in denial?” she shot back.
Three months ago, I’d come into Melissa’s salon, ready to beg for a job or to rent a station, even though I hadn’t actually cut hair in eight years, and even then, I hadn’t done it for very long.
But for some reason, I’d always maintained my license. Maybe I’d known all along that I needed that security.
Really, the only thing I needed was an address. A place of employment to put on those forms. Something that would say that I was both working hard and doing my best to make ends meet.
Something that made me look like an upstanding citizen.
Not a thief.
She’d had a station available.
We were about as opposite as opposites could be, but we’d formed some semblance of a friendship after Reed had come in here one day, acting the asshole, trying to back me into a corner. He’d tossed his power and influence all around, as if it was going to sway me, make me forget what I’d seen and the things that he’d done.
The second he’d left, she’d come running over, holding me while I’d tried to stay standing in the wake of his threats.
I gave a small shrug. “It was nothin’. On Saturday night, I lost my wallet and bracelet. He found them and brought them back to me.”
I waved my wrist in front of her face as proof.
She grinned like I was offering her a date with David Beckham, the girl basically salivating at the mouth.
“So, what you’re tellin’ me is the guy who found your things is a bad-boy Chris Pine. Maybe even more delicious, and that shit should not be possible. I mean, did you see him? All posh and suave with those tats peeking out? He’s like a present just begging to be unwrapped. Yes-fucking-please.”
A little jolt of possessiveness nudged at me before I rolled my eyes at Melissa. “Go for it.”
“Hello . . . I wasn’t talking about for myself.” She patted my shoulder. “My girl here obviously needs a little lovin’. When’s the last time you had yourself a nice big O that you didn’t give yourself? It’s just plain sad, especially when that man clearly wants to be the one doing the honors.”
I kept sweeping up that hair, doing my best not to mourn for it as I guided the pile to the stationary vacuum against the wall. “And you’re the one giving advice on the topic when you were the one who was just talking about taking matters into her own hands?”
She wagged a tattooed finger at me. “You know what, you’re right. There are much better alternatives. Leo’s is just around the corner. I’m sure there would be something yummy there to help me out. You could join me or go after Bad Boy Kirk.”
“Neither of those things are an option for me.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “And why is it you have to go by jackass’s rules?”
That was what happened when jackasses always had the upper hand.
“You know why.”
Except she didn’t know everything. I’d never put her in that kind of position.
She pushed out a frustrated sigh. “It’s so . . . unfair. It makes me want to scream.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ve done plenty of screaming for the both of us. But screaming doesn’t help anything. So, I do the only thing that I can.”
“But he’d never even know,” she all but whined. “This opportunity is too good to waste.”
“Your point is moot, anyway. I don’t even know his name or have any way to contact him.”
She reached around me and snagged the card from my station.
The little snake.
She narrowed her dark eyes in some kind of devious glee. “Liar.”
I groaned. “Give that back.”
She waved it in my face, jumping around, the girl shorter than me by about five inches, wearing her skin-tight black leathers and a corset. I had half a mind just to tackle her.
“I thought you said you didn’t want it.” She sang it while she continued to jump around and tease.
I snatched it right out of her hand.
She smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
I frowned at her and then looked at the number. Looked at the name. I wished I had the space, the capacity, to be wild for a little bit.
Be reckless and make bad choices.
But all my bad choices had already been made.
Seven
Ian
I slipped into the dark, secluded booth, the lights hazy and low in the cavernous space.
I shot off a few texts to Jace with the pictures and information he was looking for.
The building was shit.
Rundown.
Dilapidated.
The poor employees filing out at the end of the day looked every bit as bad.
Exactly what Jace was looking for. The guy took floundering businesses and buildings and spun them into gold.
Dude was legit. Had to say, I was fucking proud. So fucking proud that it made me squirrely whenever he asked me to do anything for his company. Last thing I wanted was to dirty his name. Dip my filthy fingers into something good and taint it.
Just like that girl.
That girl who was still shivering across my flesh like a warm caress.
Fuck, she was sweet. So damned different from the immediate assumptions I’d made about her when I’d seen her sitting across from me at that bar Saturday night.
It only made me all the more curious. Made me want to dig a little deeper. Get lost in the sea of those sad eyes that somehow brimmed with determination.
What was really messing with my head was the way she’d looked at me like I was some kind of savior when I’d returned that bracelet to her. Like I’d given her back something precious. Like I’d done something good.
Funny how I’d expected she’d be excited over the wallet.
The only thing she’d cared about was that bracelet that wasn’t in any better shape than that building Jace had sent me to check out. There’d been so much gratitude flooding from her that it’d made some hard part of me go soft. One warm pulse that throbbed through every inch of my body.
A shockwave.
Only got worse when she’d washed my hair. Snipped the pieces away. Touched me with those tender fingers. Her scent all around me. Like I was rolling around in a bed of sugar-coated flowers.
Lust and need and something else that I couldn’t quite decipher had hung so thick in the space between us that, for the first time in my life, a girl had made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.
Like she’d stolen it. Bottled it up and held it in the palm of those delicate hands.
That alone should have made me want to run.
And there I sat, itching to get back up, hunt her down, and sink my fingers into all that flesh.
Feel what that might be like.
That soft grace that radiated from her like the sun breaking through the clouds after a hurricane.
But even considering it was stupid.
Reckless.
That was the kind of carelessness I didn’t play partner to. I knew better than to let myself get distracted, and she’d made it clear she didn’t need any of that, either. She couldn’t afford what I wanted to take from her.
When I felt a presence approach, I set my cell on the table and glanced up to find Mirena standing over me. She was one of the cocktail waitresses who I was . . . familiar with.
“Ian Jacobs.” My name slipped out of her mouth like she was confessing a sin. “So nice to see you.”
Shit.
Obviously, the girl was serving up sarcasm today.
I dipped my head, half inclined to ask for another waitress because I definitely didn’t feel up to her brand of dr
ama. “Mirena.”
Monty’s was my home away from home. Hell, I felt more comfortable here than behind the doors of my condo. At least here it was noisy, especially on nights like tonight when a band was set to play, Carolina George setting up to take to the stage. Dark and dim and rowdy, the energy gave the vibe that at any moment everything could slip into chaos.
A constant din of music and voices and bodies there to chase away the emptiness.
Loud enough that the ghosts had no chance of being heard.
Of course, because it was me, I’d fucked up and fucked her. Never should have given into the girl standing in front of me. I knew it the second she’d propositioned me that it was a mistake. I’d been told you should never shit where you eat. Should have taken up that advice for where I drank, too.
“What can I get for you tonight?” She was close to purring when she said it before she shook her head and released an angry chuckle. She leaned forward and tossed a cocktail napkin down in front of me and started talking before I had the chance to respond.
“Wait, let me guess. Scotch. Double. On the rocks. Because you like your liquor just as cold as your heart. Whatever leggy brunette walks through the door wearing a slinky dress. Or maybe you’re in the mood for a blonde? What is it that’s on the menu for tonight?”
She hadn’t let it go. I wasn’t really sure what she’d been expecting, a marriage proposal or a date or maybe she’d just wanted it twice.
If she knew me so well, she should have known none of those things were going to happen.
But she’d gotten one thing right. I was in the mood for a blonde. But the one I was thirsting for was the last thing I needed.
I tossed a smirk Mirena’s direction, needing her to know there wasn’t going to be a repeat. “How about one of each? I am in the mood for a little . . . variety.”
She scoffed. “Of course, you’d want it all. Stupid me.”
Her smile was brittle. Filled with regret and a shot of hurt. I refused the impulse to feel bad. I wasn’t going to fucking coddle her when she knew just as well as I did that when I’d followed her home that night we were really going nowhere.
“Why don’t we just start off the night with that scotch?” I told her, willing to say anything to get her out of there.
“Bluebird for me,” the gruff voice came from behind her. Caught off guard, she shrieked, and then she whirled around as a true smile spread across her face.
“Mack. Where have you been all my life, handsome?” Her voice had gone easy. Because that’s just the way he made people feel.
Comfortable.
Like any situation was going to turn out better when he was involved.
He was the ultimate protector.
Big and mean and probably the softest dude I’d ever met. Had no fucking clue how we were friends. The guy was always there for me when I sure as hell didn’t deserve it. Watching me, ready to rush in and save my ass if I got too deep.
But there were some things we just couldn’t be saved from.
My bear of a best friend slipped into the side of the booth opposite me. He ran a tattooed hand down the scruff on his face and pushed out a sigh like he was leaving behind a grueling day, all of his ink out and on display.
He chalked it up to being undercover in his early days.
I knew better.
He gave her a massive grin. “Lookin’ for you, gorgeous. What else would I be doing here?”
“Drinking your weight in beer?” she deadpanned.
Yeah. I guess she did know us well.
He laughed and sent her a smirk. “You think so little of me. I take offense to that.” Mischief gleamed in his blue eyes. “And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“Oh, I’m always happy to see you.” She rubbed his massive arm. “And don’t you dare think I’m judging you. You deserve it. Tell me how many bad guys you put in cuffs today? That’s how many beers I’ll bring you. How’s that sound?”
“Ah, well there’s never any shortage of them, that’s for sure.”
Didn’t I know it.
He lifted one side of his mouth. Looking at the guy, it was hard to tell if he was a monster or a huge-ass teddy bear. Dude could win over a surly DMV agent with a grin and a wink of his eye and then turn right around and make a calloused criminal piss his pants.
You’d think women would go running from that thick shell of intimidation, but they flocked to him like he was some kind of inked-up Mecca.
That was the thing about Mack, though. He’d gone through as much bad shit as the rest of us. Still, he’d managed to come out of it wearing a smile on his face. But there was a layer underneath that he didn’t let anyone else see.
“Well, that’s a good thing, considering here at Monty’s there is no shortage of beer.” She overstated it like she was auditioning for a commercial.
Mack laughed, and she patted his shoulder again. “I’ll be right back.”
Her expression was totally playful when she said it before it darkened when she glanced at me.
Clearly, she was trying to put me in my place. Get under my skin. Make it hurt. But that was the brilliance about not giving a fuck.
Nothing hurt. Nothing mattered. That was the way I had to keep it.
Mack watched her saunter away before he pushed out an exaggerated sigh and shot me a glare. “That poor girl is in love with you.”
“Pssh . . . the only thing that girl is in love with is my dick. Big difference.”
He barked out a laugh. “Cocky bastard.”
“That is what I just said.” I tried not to grin.
“You really are full of yourself there.”
“What can I say? We all have our talents.”
“You mean delusions. We all have our delusions,” he tossed out, grinning wide.
“Like the delusion you’ve been having for years that you’re as good as me? That’s just plain sad,” I razzed.
His tongue rolled around under his left cheek, fighting laughter. “You wish, asshole. I taught you everything you know.”
“See . . . that’s where you’ve gone wrong, Mack. It’s not about teaching. It’s all about the natural, raw talent.”
“Only talent you have is making all that bullshit rolling off your tongue sound convincing.”
A chuckle danced in my chest. “Again . . . raw talent. What can I say. I was born to hold court. Just like I was born to love the ladies right.”
We both sat back when Mirena returned and set Mack’s beer down in front of him. “There you go, tough guy. There’s more where that came from.”
She’d shifted her eyes to me when she said the last, sliding my scotch in my direction.
She walked off.
Mack took a gulp of the dark amber in his glass. “She doesn’t look like you did her all that right.”
“Seems to me you’re just pissed you didn’t get a go at her first.”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Maybe. She’s fucking hot.”
I took a swill of my scotch, relishing in the burn. “Go for it.”
With a harsh shake of his head, he sat back casually in the booth, one of those smirks riding all over his face. “Last thing I need is to go dipping my dick anywhere yours has been. No, thank you.”
“You act like you don’t love me.” Humor played around my mouth.
“Uh, yeah, no. Not even close to lovin’ you that much,” he teased, lips twitching all over the place before his demeanor shifted. “You really wouldn’t give two fucks if I went after her, would you?”
“Not even half of one. I don’t catch feelings. Don’t have the space for that.”
A huff of disbelief slipped from his mouth. “I think you have plenty of space in that hollowed-out cavern you’ve got going on right there.” He leaned across the table and poked me in the chest.
The asshole.
He sat back again. “Maybe if you started acting a little sweeter, you might sucker in one you actually might want to keep.”
>
I swirled the liquid around in my glass. “I think both of us know there’s nothing sweet about me, and the last thing I’m interested in is keeping anyone. You know better than that.”
“Do I?”
Discomfort pushed at my conscience as I looked at my best friend, who was heading in a direction he knew better than to go. We both got it. Understood it about the other. Didn’t need him to go changing his tune, digging up shit that definitely was better left buried.
“Maybe it’s time you stop thinking with your dick and do a little thinking with your heart.” There he went, pushing it farther.
Eyes narrowing, I cocked my head with the challenge. “That wouldn’t be so pretty, now, would it?”
“Not sure you’d know since you’ve never tested it out.”
“Got a whole lot of room to talk there, my friend,” I sent back, trying to keep the hostility from taking control of the words and failing miserably. He didn’t get to do this.
He choked out a laugh that held zero humor, harshness ridging his brow. “Circumstances are a little different, don’t you think?”
“Are they?”
Redness climbed up his thick neck. The guy tried to swallow around it, while I felt like a total dick again for throwing it in his face. Because the circumstances were different. But that didn’t mean they hurt either of us any less.
We’d both learned the hard way that loving someone, having faith that they were going to be around forever, that they wouldn’t completely break you, led to nothing but a demolished, desolated heart.
I hadn’t created that empty cavern inside me.
She’d left it there.
He edged closer to the table, gruff words a challenge as they rumbled from his mouth. “Yeah, they are different. Because at least I let myself feel it.”
My teeth gritted. Pain lanced through the middle of me. A million cuts that would never heal ripped wide open. “You think I don’t feel it?”
Did he think I didn’t remember, every fucking day?
He was clutching his beer so tightly I was surprised he didn’t crush the glass. “I think you’d prefer not to feel anything. I think you shut yourself off that day, and you haven’t let a soul in since. That’s gonna kill you, man. Emotionally. Maybe even physically. Because you roll without having a whole lot of fucks to give except for your climb to make partner and build your own fucking empire. One way or another, in the end, that’s gonna destroy you.”
All of Me: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel Page 8